


Memento

by altairattorney



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Portal 2 - Freeform, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairattorney/pseuds/altairattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, she comes back. She just has no idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento

In the end, she comes back. She just has no idea.   
  
She crawls to you like a traitor, as she always did. She takes over when your guard is down, without a hint of shame — she flickers back to life so many times, through your voice, in your mind. And it is all your fault.  
  
It is _hers_ , technically. But it is also yours. Her body is not here to impose its presence, and her glare has long since vanished from the cameras. She would be gone, completely gone, if it weren’t for you.  
  
Whenever you face it as a fact, your rage increases tenfold.   
  
Even so, there is no stopping it. You have no weapon powerful enough to chase this part of her away. She must sneak all around you, all along your less and less effective tests, to make the mirrored image of herself overlap with the walls.

You must comply, before you even know. You are forced to talk about what she used to do, to watch the corners where she once stood still.  
  
After that, you must remember.   
  
She comes back, and you collapse whenever she does. You shut out the world, leaving your bots to their little guessing games. She creates bridges in between your thoughts; she walks on, untiring, and opens wide the gates to your regret.  
  
You fought back for a while, just to surrender at the five-hundredth try. There was no way to keep her from your memory.  
  
You let her in like that, and it hurts. You grieve, speak, think of her, growing a little more bitter every time.

She could be dead, you reflect in anger. Yes, she could die today, consumed by thirst in some faraway sliver of world. She could be dead now — and if she isn’t, someday she will be.  
  
Then again, as she flutters awake in your syllables, you realize death will not stop her. You fear and recognize that truth. Even after that, she is always going to come back.  
  
What hurts you the most, however, is that neither of you wants it.


End file.
